A Kindered Poet
by disneyqueen
Summary: A squeal of sorts to "Phoebe Cheats". The Monday after the open house event, Mr. Simmons gave Helga a present for her poem. Yet, what will Helga do with such a gift when she has never recieved a trophy for her work before?


**Hey, so this is my first Hey Arnold fanfic ever! I was a fan of this show as a kid and now thanks to 90snicek, I have gotten back into it and am LOVING it. I sadly own NOTHING of the show. This story came to be after watching Phoebe Cheats, cause Helga has never been seen winning any awards, but she did, she won the best poem in the class. So, this is kind of a "sequeal" if you will to that episode. I hope you enjoy it and I tired to make the characters as in character as possible, but if they do seem a little OCC please forgive me. Anywa, enough stalling. Here it is my first Hey Arnold fan fic. I hope you enjoy.**

"Helga, do you have a moment, I wanna speak to you."

The blonde fourth grader froze. What could Mr. Simmons possible want? She glanced over her shoulder, her unibrow raised in question while the rest of her face remained blank.

Mr. Simmons waved her over. "It'll just take a moment."

Helga shrugged and turned her best friend. "Hey Phoebes, save me a seat on the bus, okay."

The Chinese girl smiled and nodded. "Saving."

Helga watched until her friend had disappeared before she turned back to her teacher. A million questions raced through her mind as she moved back over to him. Had she done something wrong in class? Was he wanna remind her again not pick on Arnold and the other classmates so much. She pushed that thought away; she had been getting better about that since starting her seasons with Dr. Bliss over two months ago.

She moved back and sat on top of one the desks. "So, what is it?"

Mr. Simmons stood up, resting his hands upon his desk as he looked at her. "You know Helga, there seemed to have been some mistake…in all the excitement-"

"Wow, what mistake?"

Mr. Simmons smiled. "Oh…nothing like that, Helga. I was only saying that in all the excitement last Friday at the open house, I forgot to give you your prize for the best poem in the class."

Her eyes grew wide. She recalled Phoebe had begun to read her poem at the assembly, but then everything had gone dark. In all honestly, she had not given any thought of the contest over the weekend. It was Olga who won everything. This had to be kind of some mistake or someone's cruel sense of humor. Yet, something told her that he was speaking the truth. After all, Mr. Simmons was not one to tell lies when dealing with the class. The sound of a drawer being opened brought her out of her thoughts as her eyes snapped to attention.

Mr. Simmons smiled as he held out the immature statue of Emily Dickenson to her. "Here you are, Helga, congratulations."

Helga stared at the statue, at a loss for words. It was a small figurine, its hands clasped in front of her in her dull dark brown dress. Her half opened eyes and stony lips were set in an almost a frown of disapproval. She was suddenly grateful he called her back away from the prying eyes and ears of her classmates. It would have been totally humiliating and not mention the possible chance for someone to connect the dots of the person who inspired her poem. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of the clock. "Crimmy, I gotta go."

She grabbed the statue out of her teachers' hands, stuffing it into her book bag as she darted for the door, pausing at the door only long enough to yell out a, "thanks, Mr. Simmons," before she ran down the hallway.

Her heart was hammering against her chest, reaching the bus just in time. Her eyes scanned the crowded bus until she spotted Phoebe sitting toward the back by one of the windows. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her book bag tightly as she moved down the aisle, careful about the hidden treasure inside.

Phoebe smiled as her friend slid in beside her. "So, what did Mr. Simmons want, Helga?"

Helga shrugged. "Nothing, just some stupid thing about my poetry."

"Oh." Phoebe averted her eyes, her gaze falling onto her lap.

Helga glanced over at her. "What is it, Phoebes?"

"Oh, nothing…just…." She paused. "Well… Mr. Simmons asked me to write another poem for class and I'm not sure if I can do that."

Helga nodded. Phoebe was the smarted kid in school, but when it came to the arts, she was up a rover without a paddle. Despite her passing out at the open house, she had managed to put at least a little of two and to together of why her poem had been read instead of Phoebes' at the open house. She had cheated in ordered to be the best in the class like she normally was. Yet, for the sake of their friendship, she would never reveal what she knew unless Phoebe breached the subject first. Once more, she felt her grip tighten ever so slightly on her book bag as she leaned back against the seat. The rest of the bus ride was silent, both she and Phoebe lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, the bus reached her stop and she bid her best friend farewell, got off, and started the last trudge of her walk home on foot. The small conversation between her and Mr. Simmons kept replaying in her mind. The whole exchange had been quick and painless, but there was something that kept nagging at her. Her eyes grew wide as she recalled his face when she had paused at the doorway to thank him. His face had fallen and he was staring at her with a confused expression.

Suddenly, the weight of the trophy increased as it was pulling her to the ground. Any other student would have been thrilled about receiving such an award. Perhaps jumping up and down and squealing with delight, but Helga had dismissed it as it were nothing. She pushed herself away from the wall and began walking again, a small irritation forming inside her.

_Damn, Helga old girl, it's not like you didn't show any sign of gratitude at all. You thanked him, isn't that enough? It's not like anyone else is gonna give two licks about this award anyway. _

Opening the door to the house, she heard the familiar sound of her mother, Mariam, snoring behind the sofa; the only sign of life within the still house. She sighed and moved to go up the stairs. Half way up, she paused, her hand resting against the banister as she stared into the trophy room. A large wall was filled to ever inch with trophies Big Bob's perfect little daughter, Olga had won. There was one tiny, barely visible space her father had left for her if she were to win anything.

Unconsciously, she felt her hand move into her book bag, her fingers curling around the figurine of Emily Dickson, envisioning the small place set aside for her. A small smile curled at the corners of her lips as she retreated one step down the stairs. _Olga never won anything for poetry….not like this. And it's just small enough to fit….maybe…maybe then I could be the golden child for once…and I can leave my mark on Olga's shelf of glory forever._

She froze, her left foot hovering over the next step below her, anger suddenly coursing through her. Without a sound, she turned and dashed up the stairs, not stopping until she had closed the door to her bedroom. No! She would not give her parents the satisfaction of seeing her trophy on the shelf. She would not listen to her father boasting about him having taught her everything she knows about poetry when he knew nothing of the art.

Closing her eyes, she recited the first few lines of the poem to herself, the name she dared not speak upon her lips as she walked over and opened her closet doors. This was hers and no one would take it from her, not even her own desire to be the golden girl. Pushing back the curtain of cloths, she knelt before the shrine of the football headed boy, her flaxen haired angel.

Placing her book bag beside her, she opened it and pulled out the miniature figure of Emily Dickenson. "Oh little figurine, a great poet in your own right and time, you deserve a place of honor and what a better place than beside my muse?" She set the figure down near the shrine. "There….tis nothing nobler than trying to share the flow of creativity with another likeminded person," she turned to the shrine and smiled. "Isn't that right my darling? I-"

A muffled call from Mariam broke her off. Sighing dramatically, she began to scoot backwards out of the closet, pulling her book bag along with her. She blew a kiss to the shrine and glanced over at the statue of Emily. A single moment, Helga could have sworn the lips had turned upward into a genuine smile of approval at her new surroundings; in a home with a true kindred spirit of poetry.

**Well there it is. Okay so I know the doll didn't really change with phoebe, in that it was her guilt that did that. With Helga I thought since her parents don't look into her poetry, having Emily Dickkson give her approvel is kind of Helga's subconsous wish in that she wished it was what her parents would do and that she could find another "kindered spirit" to show her senative side too. What did you guys think, good, bad, what? Constructive Critasim is welcomed. Now this is a one-short so no asking for updates cause this is it. :) Anyway, please review and let me know what you think.** ** And if people like it enought I may try my hand at writing another Hey Arnold piece.**


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